Classism in the Arts: The Great Creative Reset

A new hope for the working class...?

Apr 27, 2024

As a working class artist, I have managed to forge a decent career. I truly hope others from similar backgrounds can do so too, but it is important to me to use the small platform that I have to shine a light on the realities of the art world and wider creative sector. Because the truth is, I do worry about how difficult it must be starting out in today’s climate. So today I wanted to share some of my experiences and feelings on this…

I always painted and drew as a child and showed promise from an early age. I grew up on a council estate in the south of Scotland. It helped me build character to work towards my goals and hardened me to an extent - us creatives have a knack for being too sensitive.

At 17, I tentatively started on a path towards an art career straight out of high school. The school I attended was part of my estate and not renowned for nurturing the creative side of the young, but instead controlling our behaviour.

I was a good student when I was able to apply myself, but there didn’t seem to be much confidence from teachers in my or anyone else’s futures. During our Highers (part of the Scottish curriculum you study for at around 16 years old), we were forced to attend meaningless maths classes, which contributed nothing to our final grades, instead of using the free time to study, as normally the case. Us working class kids were not to be trusted to roam the school unattended. I said I would turn up but would not do the work out of protest. The teacher asked me what the point in me being at school was (i.e. instead of leaving to work on a building site). I told him: “I want to be an professional artist”, to which he replied: “You will amount to nothing”.

My journey in the pursuit of an art career had only just begun but a pattern had begun to emerge.

Despite everything, I finally made it to Art School, the only person I knew who went to University outside vocational work. I enjoyed it a lot; snobbery and classism existed but nothing a young man full of energy could not deal with and I banded together with like-minded folks who were from similar backgrounds, and developed my skills and my personality.

After graduating, I decided to forge ahead with my plans to be a professional artist after I was offered to take part in some group exhibitions on the back of my degree show. In those days I lived well below the poverty line, juggling part time jobs with my studio time to make ends meet. I was completely self-sufficient.

Very early on I worked nights in a kitchen. One time, with no-one else to help, I asked one of the delivery drivers a favour – could he give me a lift to Edinburgh to drop off some paintings at a gallery which had asked me to show some work. He kindly agreed, so off we set in his pizza delivery van, which turned out to be perfect for storing my work. On arriving, I was swiftly told to get the van out of sight because it “was not becoming of the area…”

Not long after, I found myself being lectured at another event for pouring wine incorrectly. The very wine I’d forked out to buy to be able to serve people at the pop-up event I had borne all the costs of attending in the hope of making a sale. It’s hard to articulate these moments to show the intent behind them, but I often felt I was being told to know my place – ‘you don't belong here’.

Many years later, I had a meeting with a client to hand over a portrait. We met in a high-end restaurant. Upon explaining to the barman why I was there, I was told to stand at the reception as the place was fully booked and I must have been mistaken. I asked for a drink while I waited, which was reluctantly brought to me. After half an hour, I asked for the bill so I could leave and phone the client to find out where they were. The barman laughed and rolled his eyes at his colleague. Just then, my client burst in: “Steven, we have been waiting for you!”… Turns out he and the restaurant owners had booked a private room for us all. The whole atmosphere changed and I was then treated like royalty by the same staff.

I am always polite and well presented, but just having a strong accent in certain parts of the UK changes the way you are addressed. Classism is still rife, especially in certain sectors.

I could go on and on, but this pattern continued and the stuffy atmosphere of the art world got no better. It felt like you had to jump through hoops just to get a chance, bowing down to commercial gallery owners who held sway over who to and how you sold your work. I soon got sick of this and decided to carve my own path away from this antiquated world and to take a chance and create work that was high quality and evocative, yet related to the everyday.

In time, through the use of social media and word of mouth, my dream came to fruition and my little art empire started to grow. I grew confidence and room to constantly evolve and find a path which now is my real passion of portraiture – whereas galleries and the art establishment have always told me there is no market for painting people.

I began to do better away from the noise, and my work started to sell internationally. Funnily enough, I have never dealt with any form of snobbery from my clients - some who are highly influential. Nor have I experienced this in other countries.

We are now in a recession again in the UK and the financial climate has been strangling the art sector for a while, slowly eroding its creative heart and only leaving a few left at the extremities. Increasingly, those who seem to be hanging on are those with the means to do so, which generally means those from wealth and influence. The opportunities in a creative career for the disadvantaged are dwindling, especially for working class boys who are being left well behind.

I had a chance - the 90s and early 00s were a relatively optimistic time and a brief reprieve for the working class who were not held in as much contempt then as they are today by most establishments within the UK. I was an outlier who sneaked through but I worry for those coming up. If I had been born 20 years later I don’t know how I’d have even got this far.

In recent years as my career has begun to branch out, I rarely hear a working class accent at the events and shows I attend. The locations of artists seem increasingly to be based in a certain cluster in highly affluent towns. It’s becoming more evident to me that it’s down to how much money you have rather than how much talent you have. Many artists play the game with no worries about making an income. That's fair play, if you’re lucky enough to be in that situation, then why not - but there is no clarity about this and it gives a wrong impression to young budding creatives. Their struggle is not the same, nor are the opportunities available to them.

The South controls the market, which is absolutely makes sense as it’s an international cosmopolitan area. But those who live in the north are left out. For example, to take part in a show down south, fees, promotion, trains and accommodation means you are talking a month’s wage - before you consider family. Today this is not an option for many.

The covid response or 'shakedown of the poor' has changed the playing field and is destroying the old world.

We have been told recently that we must change and that the world is evolving into a more digital based global world. This often feels ominous but I think there may be a glimmer of hope for an artistic reset.

The slate has been wiped. It could be an opportunity for artists to free from the chains of establishment and bring great art back to the fore. The working class have always had the fire in their belly that fuels the best work and hopefully this is a chance to promote ourselves on a more even playing field. The old establishment can't move on, and the work they promote is becoming weaker and weaker. Panic is in the air. The future has been painted as bleak palette, but hard times always resets the creative landscape and from the ashes of the old world, hopefully will grow something new.